straight through my heart (a single arrow shot me)
by anonymous.mystery95
Summary: They were on opposite sides of the war, sworn to take the other down. Neither accounted for the feelings that would get in the way. So, the question is, who are you loyal to: your government, your country, your family... or your heart? AU.
1. Under-cover(s)

This is a celebratory drabble made for the amazing people of FF, whom I love dearly, but only published on tumblr... until now. oops.

Disclaimer: No, I do not own OUAT. Nor the title, it is slightly edited lyrics of a BSB song.

**_Strong T. _**(I think. That might just be the paranoia though.)

* * *

><p>'You know I'm only using you for information.'<p>

He took the whimper that escaped her lips as affirmation that she did indeed hear and understand his statement.

(It could easily have been the result of the attention he was currently lavishing upon her neck, collarbone, slowly making his way south, but the balance of probabilities leaned towards the former option.)

'If you're screwing me for information about my mother, you're taking the wrong approach.' The sentence was disjointed, interrupted by the moans she could not hold back; her voice was deep and rough, it was almost primal in it's sound and Robin took pleasure in knowing that it was him that was able to do that to her. (He would also question why it would be the cause of such pride, but that would come much, much later.)

'No, I'm sleeping with you because you are a bold and audacious woman, a sexy, seductive, _evil _vixen-' And - _bloody hell_ - definitely skilled with her hands, as she seemed so intent upon proving at that moment. 'But I am using you and I don't want you to end up hurt when we catch you and convict you, because we will.'

'And how, pray tell, are you using me for anything other than my body?' Honestly, in the lusty haze she had descended into the moment he touched her, she didn't care what he did just as long as his mouth _kept doing _- oh! -_ that_.

'I would tell you, but I don't to alert you to your weaknesses in your system. Just watch yourself, okay?'

'You say that every time we meet up _Agent _Locksley, it's almost convinced me you're starting to care. And we can't have that now can we?' He could hear the smirk in her voice, malice dripping off the words. He scoffed at her statement, intent to show her who relied upon who, intent on pushing away that thought immediately. Because she was right. He was starting to get attached to their little arrangement, he was starting to get attached to _her_, and given such a thing could result in both of them getting a bullet in the head, it was not something he wanted to reflect upon, especially when she was going - _oh goodness _- that. But it wouldn't leave him, the unsettling feeling that it would all go downhill, both the mission and his emotions, wouldn't leave and it was putting a damper upon their activities. So he pinned her down, his large calloused hand holding down her dainty wrists easily, thighs stopping any movement of her legs, ignoring the glare she directed towards him when he did so, pushing aside the pleasure he feels when she deliberately jerks her hips upward to him.

'I have a code of honour, Regina.' She scoffed at that, he was a highly paid assassin, one of MI6's finest, even if his weapon of choice was archaic to say the least (not that she had the right to judge, especially given that her mother practically ran the black market and well, the apple never did fall far from the tree.) 'And I don't want to hurt you anymore than I have to.'

(He would never forget the first time he told her that he was using her, that she was merely a means to an end. She laughed in his face at that, "who knew a thief would have honour, even one as rubbish as you." Then she proved why she had garnered a reputation as an evil, _evil_, witch, because her mouth- absolutely sinful.)

'What makes you think you could?'

(What he would never understand, what he could never understand is that she was falling in very much the same way, not that either would admit to such a reckless thing. Because a lesser person would be dead at the mere thought of pinning her down the way he so casually did just then.)

'Just be a dear and finish what you've started.' If casual was all they could afford, that would be all that she asked for. Heck, that was all that she wanted.

He couldn't help the smirk that slowly spread across his face.

That, he could do.

(And it had nothing to do with the way she ground out his name from her clenched teeth over and over. And over.)

* * *

><p>They were never one for cuddling afterwards, so he just remained on the bed, watching her as she went across the room, picking up her clothing from all four corners of it (she wouldn't be able to find everything though, he ensured that much.)<p>

'So, how's your infiltration coming along?' She wasn't a fool, nor did he warn her in vain. They were on opposite sides in this war and she would take every opportunity she could to gain intel (not every opportunity though, not if it meant hurting him.)

'I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. And I do so enjoy you alive.' She could hear the laughter in his voice, and it made her feel lighter, as if the lives of thousands of people weren't upon her head.

'You know, this would never have happened if you just successfully broke in the first time.' She would always revel in the memory that he had broken into their base only to be caught by a 5 ft woman in ridiculously high heels. (The memory wouldn't compare to the first time she had broken into _his_ base, albiet for more carnal reasons.)

'Oh, the mission would have definitely continued afterwards. We may have hit a small stumbling block, but the mission is so much larger than you imagine.' That was as specific as he could go, after all, knowledge that the NSA and all their "we will find them" rubbish was involved would be detrimental to the mission, nor could she know that the ASIS was also playing a vital role (though, the one known as The Librarian was taken into enemy hands in the fight. He would worry about what secrets were revealed if she hadn't saved his life before. Right now, he was more compromised than she could ever be). 'And it's not my fault that you are magic when you work your technology. If you ever decide to get out of organised crime, I'm sure I could work something out for you. I don't want you brought down in the end.' It was the first time he had suggested that he wanted her out of the organisation and she couldn't help but pause at the last button, eyes flickering towards him for no longer than a second before turning on her heel and walking towards the door.

'Until next time?' She was going for confident and seductive but that affect was not achieved, the emotions escaping the bottle she had locked them in (and since when did this become emotional and not just mindless sex). She cursed the small quiver that could be heard in her voice, undoing all the work she had spent for the past months. Hardening her heart and voice, she walked out with parting words aimed to crush. 'Forget it, I'll be breaking in some of the new recruits.' _If only Graham was alive, that heartless bastard, I wouldn't need this thief._ (She decided to ignore the word "need" that had somehow slipped in.)

She left him there, stunned. Motionless. The unavoidable sense of doom encompassing him, weighing him down, leaving the smallest part of his heart light with _something_.

'Yeah, next time.' He was mumbling to himself, hating the convoluted mess he found himself entangled in, hating the possessive nature that swept over him at the thought of anyone's hands on her, anyone other than him. But above all else, he hated the realisation that the ending he had been so desperate to avoid was the only inevitable conclusion in their story.

They were both completely and utterly screwed.

(And by screwed, he meant "going to die.")


	2. Honeypots And All Things Sweet

He had five minutes to download the information before the bodies he left behind would be discovered...

...if he was lucky.

Opening up the computers in the Control Room he cursed his luck as he faced the encrypted files of the Mills Mafia. They were too advanced for his level of skill and the only person who could possibly decode the files, The Librarian, had been caught by the man only known as the Dark One, so she was optimistically assumed to be dead. (When it was rumoured that he would know if you uttered his true name aloud, death was considered to be the merciful option.) It had been a mission gone wrong, just another in the series of misfortune they optimistically called an black op.

Plugging in the USB drive, he did the basics. Delete footage of his presence, loop the video feed that was being recorded to the mainframe, disengage anything that had the potential of recording him. With one eye firmly watching the live video recordings, he followed the instructions the Librarian had left if anything were to happen to her.

He looked at line upon line of code, something he had no hope of understanding. He was an assassin and a thief for goodness sake, how was he supposed to understand any of this? Simply deciding to download it all, he continued on with determining where exactly he should place the wireless keylogger, without it being noticeable.

He was so engrossed with his work that he didn't notice anything until it was too late.

He didn't notice _her _until it was too late.

(And he would come to realise that it was uncomfortably true in more ways than one.)

* * *

><p>'My advice is, unless your intention is to download every virus known to mankind, you better stop what you're doing.'<p>

He stiffened at the voice, feminine in nature, oozing seduction and sex appeal, and -for more than one reason- he felt the urge to turn around to see the woman who had caught him in the act.

She appeared from nowhere. Not a sound was made, no alert was sounded, the video feed showed no evidence of a soul, it was as though magic was responsible for her presence there. And there, in all her glory, was the devil in disguise, Regina Mills, the ultimate femme fatale if he ever had the misfortune of meeting one.

Her eyes glinted in the darkness, and he became aware of how long she spent examining the perfect model of alluring temptation, before him. (He blamed the heels that adorned her feet, they begged, pleaded with the wearer to have them on. To _only _have them on. And he couldn't deny that the image his mind procured was enticing.)

'If you had bothered decoding more than the first few lines of the encryption, you would have noticed that it was a series of viruses that would serve to copy all the information on your network while corrupting it in the process.' She smiled proudly, and that served to put him more on edge than anything else. 'My personal favourite is the poisoned apple algorithm.'

'Huh?' It was a grunt, escaping him before he had a chance to mask his confusion. She however, went on as though he hadn't made a sound and he found himself annoyed by that.

'You think your getting something nice and juicy, while the virus spreads through your system, poisoning everything in it, shutting it down without the user even realising. I'd assume for an organisation like yours it would be a curse you couldn't be rid of.'

She walked towards him, while he simply watched her warily, she seemed to come alone, and while that meant the odds would have been in his favour, she did know the layout of the place, she knew of his presence when he went to such lengths to hide it, she knew how to maneuver without alerting him of her's. All in all, he did not have the advantage, which meant that he would simply have to wait, to observe the woman in front of him. To find her weakness and exploit it. (Never, in all the worlds, would he have imagined it to be _him_.)

'Who do you work for, anyhow? I can't see the CIA getting involved with this, and the FBI are so ridiculously slow in their investigation I'm almost insulted with the caliber of agents they sent after me.' The tilt of her head should not look as sexy as it did, but he couldn't deny the appeal of danger to a soul like his. (How else could he justify a job such as this one?)

She wasn't an idiot, she did remain a good distance away from him. She could see the muscles underneath his clothing, and she was not going to risk seeing if they were as strong as she suspected.

'M'lady?'

'Ahh, British then.' She nodded thoughtfully to herself, ignoring, but not discarding his presence. 'So MI6 finally decided to make a move, I'm surprised actually. Didn't think they would bother getting around all the red-tape the American's put around.' He stood quietly, wondering why she was talking to him, what her endgame was. 'Sometimes it seems to be more for our benefit than the country's. '

'How did you get in here?' He cracked, so sue him. He had a file on Regina Mills shorter than the alphabet. If he needed to go fishing for information from the woman herself, he would bring the tackle and whatever else would be required.

'By walking.' Her voice was droll, bored and clearly expecting more from the agent in front of her. 'What? Did you think you were the only person who knew how to loop the video feed?'

'But-'

'Name.' She smiled saucily at him, and he realised that he should have left beforehand, regardless of the risks at hand, because this situation, now, was infinitely more worse than anything he could have faced.

'Agent.' He may be caught, but he would not reveal anything - especially to her.

'Well then _Agent_, you can just call me Your Majesty.'

'Your Majesty I was just curious as to how you hacked the feed without having access to the controls.'

'Please tell me your joking.' His unwavering stare indicated that no, he was not joking. 'I'm pretty sure I could have cracked that code in under five minutes on a flip phone. Trust me, I may have left myself a backdoor, but that is hardly considered my best work.'

'You designed this?' The disbelief and wonder slipped though his tone, nothing in the meager profile reports readied him for that information. Though he had a feeling that it would be almost impossible for anybody to be ready when meeting the fiery woman before him.

'Please give me some credit. There is more to my life than having a fantastic body.' He bit his lip at the mention of her body because, _good god_, that outfit seemed tailored to his every weakness.

She pulled the drive from the computer and slid in in between her cleavage, his eyes following her every movement and lingering once it was placed securely. The cheshire smile that was spread across her face alerted him to the fact he was not as subtle as he would have hoped to be, but at that point he was well passed caring. He was a trained agent, if he was so affected by lust he couldn't execute a simple mission, he didn't deserve to hold such a position.

'I'll give you five minutes to escape before the guards are alerted to your present Agent.' That snapped him out of whatever daze he was in. She was a criminal, a murderer, he would be insane to believe that she would willingly give him all that time to escape, however it would incomprehensible to not take advantage of whatever time she did give him. But first he walked to her, so unbelievably close, each and every curve on the woman's body pressing deliciously against the hard ridges of his own, and she simply watched him, her eyes dark and calculating, wondering what game he was playing.

'It was a pleasure meeting you_, Your Majesty_.' His voice was low, smooth, his accent more pronounced and from this position she could definitely appreciate the way his shirt clung to his muscles. She bit her lip at the thought of those muscles tense, braced around her as he held himself above her, the shirt no where in sight. 'It's a shame it'll never happen again. Not unless you're handcuffed. And locked up.' She felt as though she were on fire, her mind flooded with different ways they could both get what they wanted. But, in that instant, he had disappeared.

She didn't have the slightest chance against an accent like that, with a self assured thief who seemed to rub her in all the right ways, lighting her up with barely a word.

She would have to ensure that it did happen.

* * *

><p>'Agent Locksley.'<p>

He opened the door with a gun in his hand and not a single piece of clothing on his torso. Licking her lips subconsciously, eyes raking over his fine form, she couldn't determine which piece of information was more of a turn on.

'How did you find me?'

His voice was gruff, clearly being awoken from whatever sleep he was able to grasp, but nothing about his defensive posture or the fact that the gun was still pointed towards her could detract from the way she saw his eyes darken, his pupils dilate in lust. He wanted her and she was determined to let him take her in much the same way she intended to take him.

'I think the only way to describe your aliases is pathetic. But you know I'm not here to talk technology Locksley, nor am I here to talk about the mission you seem to be on.'

'My aliases have served me perfectly thus far.' She snorted, it was rather unladylike and in any other instance she may have felt shame at having such a reaction escape without her control. Instead, she found herself eager, preparing for a battle of wit, something she was sorely missing in her life.

'Hood. Your alias is Robert Hood. The fact that none of your targets had found you earlier both astounds and disgusts me.'

'Regina.' It was just her name but damn, hearing it come from his lips, with that accent and his deep, rich timbre, it _did _things to her. 'Regina.' It was just her name but damn, hearing it come from his lips, with that accent and his deep, rich timbre, it _did _things to her. 'How did you find me here?'

'I've been researching this mission of yours.' He stiffened at the mention of her researching the mission, her technological gift something he wouldn't take lightly, but if she noticed she said nothing of it. 'Seems that the British are still trying to express their superiority over us Americans. I'm surprised you were able to gather so much information about us in a short span of time.'

A small part of his sighed in relief; she may have known the details surrounding his part of the mission, but she didn't know the full extent of it's entirety. Because it wasn't just him who was working on this mission, it wasn't even _his_ mission. It was, in actuality, the NSA's. When the Americans with all their eternal optimism, approached MI6 asking for an expert marksmen they had put forward his name without a question; after all, his shot's never missed their mark. The Australian, code-named the Librarian, had already agreed to working on the hacking aspect of the mission and, if necessary, any undercover work. Add in a couple of mercenaries, who really, were almost like wolves with their bloodthirstiness, and the rat-tag team had been formed.

And he was the weakest link.

But they were safe and that was all that mattered.

'Your sources won't be speaking to you anymore. Well, not unless you pull out an ouija board, but I think they would be too afraid to contact you from the other side. Fear is quite an effective tool.' _Cute_. That is all that was running through his mind when she scrunched up her nose at the mention of fear as a tool she could wield against even the dead. He should be alerting the other's about the deaths, should be reporting that his identity was now compromised, but he wasn't. He was just reflecting on how cute she looked like that.

'Well, aren't you going to invite me in?'

'No.' The astonishment was not disguised in the slightest and her smile widened at it.

'Tsk, tsk, tsk. Were you ever taught manners Agent Locksley, because I am of the persuasion that they are severely lacking.' She waltzed into his apartment, without a care in the world, and if he were honest, he found that to be some kind of amazing.

'What are you doing here Regina?' The roughness of his voice had failed to disappear and they both knew that it was no longer due to sleep. Or his lack of it. And so, when she dropped her coat and he was able to see what exactly she was wearing underneath it - _or rather what she wasn't _- he couldn't hide his hunger, he never attempted to.

Cute was definitely _not _the right word to describe this woman.

'I'm just here for a simple conversation.' She smirked at his silent response, taking in his jaw slacken expression and the fire in his eyes which simply set her soul (and libido) ablaze. She approached him slowly, reveling in the fact he seemed to be a statue, frozen in his position, vulnerable to her.

(It was those heels, those _bloody _heels.

Seemed his wish was granted after all.)

'Unless you want to do something else.' She was a minx, a seductress, a siren. And like any man, he couldn't resist her call, even if he knew it was leading to his downfall. 'Like what you see, Agent?' She raked her fingers down his chest, a trail of red being left in their wake. She admired her mark upon him, and although it was fading away, the brand would remain. She didn't like to share her things, and _he was hers_, her to do with - or do away with - whenever and wherever she pleased. (And oh, she had a feeling he would be very, _very _pleasing.)

'Well, I can't deny that you look absolutely stunning. At every angle and in every way.' They were so close now, the feeling of his heart beating underneath her fingertips sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. She could easily kill him, he would have no chance. But she didn't.

Not when he pulled her to him like he just did, giving into the temptation that was there. The skin-on-skin contact fanned the flames instead of relieving them, her eagerness was insatiable and she _needed _release.

'Yes.' It was hissed out, the warmth he emitted both exciting her and affecting her more than she would care to admit. 'Just... just don't get attached Locksley.' He could feel her against him, every heave of her chest pushing her more firmly into him. She felt more than she heard his words, the rumble from deep within his chest vibrating against her, the thrill it sent manifesting itself in the shiver that wracked her body.

'I wouldn't dream of it.'

And then, with his acknowledgement, they collided.

Clothes went flying everywhere, her skin - oh her soft, supple skin - so visible, so available for him to take, to explore, to feel. And he did do that.

He understood the rules, they went without saying. So when the name '_Daniel!_' passed through her lips, he said not a word.

(But then again, she said nothing when '_Marian_' was the name he cried out.)

.

..

.

They didn't make it to the bedroom until the third round.

(They didn't make it to the bed until the fifth.)

.

..

.

She brought the handcuffs with her the next night.

* * *

><p>I have no words. None.<p>

(Other than I don't own OUAT.)


	3. Compromised

He didn't know when they started lingering in their embraces.

Okay, well, he did. But that event was amazing, incredible and so, completely exhausting, he dare not consider it _**the **_moment that everything changed. (It was more because she did not have the strength to move, let alone get up and leave him.)

He didn't know when or how they moved from leaving immediately to lingering, from lingering to small talk. From the small talk to the quiet confessions that they hardly acknowledged to themselves.

'What was he like?' His calloused fingers were wandering aimlessly across the smooth expanse of her naked back, tracing shapeless patterns into her skin, silently marking her as his. He felt her stiffen against his touch, yet she refused to turn around, to face him, and he was unsure whether he should be on guard.

'Who?' There was an edge to her tone, a warning to not go where he intended to, but he ignored such advice, plowing onward with the question.

'Daniel. You call out his name sometimes.' It touches his heart and crushes it in equal measures when he hears that name. Because while the knowledge that she feels safe enough around him to be vulnerable is touching, it does nothing to calm down the primal part of his mind which lights up at the thought of another's name on her tongue, of someone else on her mind.

'Don't you _dare _mention his name. Not to me, not to anybody.'

'But you do want me to mention it, you want to talk about it, to be set free from it. You want to love again. But you don't think you should, don't want to dishonour their memory like that, you don't think you deserve anyone else other than them.' And he was right, oh god he was so completely right that it hurt. To hear the words out loud, to hear someone verbalise her deepest fears and darkest secrets was strange and confusing, it was uncharted territory which she hoped would remain that way. She didn't know what to do or what to say and so she responded the only way she knew how: with anger.

'Don't presume to know me, _Agent_.' She attempted to get up, to get out, but his arms banded around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, keeping her with him.

'But I do know you.' He held her until she stopped struggling, until she listened to what he had to say. 'I know you because I know me. I see the same sense of loss in your eyes that I see in mine. I know what it is like to have nothing and no one, to lose yourself in your mission and tasks because there is no one to come home to, no one who would care if you. To approach everything with a reckless abandon because somewhere, deep down, you are hoping that you won't succeed, that you'll be reunited with them once more.'

She felt the tears prickling behind her eye lids. _Tears_. She was surprised her body knew how to produce them anymore, it had been so long. (Since Daniel, since _before _Daniel.)

'I envy you a little you know that.' He sounded so casual, as though the topic would be as banal as the weather. She would have assumed it would be, if not for the way his grip on her hip tightened, if he didn't pull her that much closer to him. 'I mean, your mother may be a cold, manipulative murderer, but in a cruel, twisted way, she does love you.' A coarse bark escaped his lips and she flinched at the pain it carried. 'My mother died when I was but a teenager and my father disowned me as soon as he legally could. You at least have a family, I have what? Nothing.' His voice cracked, but he felt no shame. She was still there, listening, and that was all he could have wanted. 'My wife died in childbirth. The kid did too.' He sounded so lost, so defeated, when talking about them, that - goodness know's why - Regina felt the need to turn around, to comfort him. And so she did. 'We were going to call him Roland after her father.' He leaned forward, nuzzling his head in the crook of her shoulder, taking comfort in her presence. 'God, if there were any way to save them, I would have taken it no matter what the price. But life just isn't a fairy-tale, there is no magic available to make everything better.'

She wanted to tell him that he did have someone, that he had _her _for as long as he wanted, but the words were caught in her throat in an uncomfortable lump, refusing to budge.

She raised a hand, caressed his cheek, a part of her relishing in the feel of his stubble against her skin, but a larger part enjoying the way his eyes fluttered closed at the contact, the way his face seemed to relax, the tension slowly seeping out of his body. She loved the way that it was _her _that could do this, that he knew her secrets, her sins, but still enjoyed the moment between them. (Because it _was _a moment, just one in a small collection of them. And she felt perfectly fine with that - and it was that which worried her.)

When his eyes did open, her breath caught when faced with the intensity he felt, that he directed towards her, that was _for _her. And she couldn't have stopped the smile even if she had tried. She didn't know what he could see in her own, but she had a very strong suspicion it was what she could see in his.

He should have known something was completely off when she opened up so easily. He should have been worried when he was able to look in her eyes and she all the bottled up emotions without obvious consequence. But he didn't. Instead he pulled her closer, relishing in the moment, his heart beating a little faster when the soft sigh of contentment and adoration passed her lips. She nuzzled closer, breathing in his scent, breathing in _their _mixed scent, all sweat and sex and _just them_.

'I almost defected once.' A broken laugh escaped her mouth after that and Robin felt his chest tighten at the confession. He looked down at the woman in his embrace, memorising every detail about her, about this. She refused to look him in the eye, instead outlining the ridges of his chest, her fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. There was nothing sexual about the movements, but the affect it had on him was powerful all the same. 'My boyfriend- fiancè', she corrected, 'felt uncomfortable with the work my mother was training me for and had been begging me to leave.' He knew better than to talk, not with her being so open to him, not with her trusting him with something so valuable. 'He knew I hated it, but my mother is my mother and if there is one person you don't betray, it would be her.' However evident the disdain was in her tone, it was not strong enough to hide the quiver in her voice, the only sign that she was affected by the recollection of events. 'But then he proposed, and the thought of raising our children together was so unbelievably amazing. I knew then that I couldn't remain so I approached an agent from the NSA who would help with the defection. I would provide information, and in exchange they would provide passage to Canada and new identities for the both of us.' Her breath was becoming laboured, the flood of memories threatening to overcome her, and the circles his fingers were rubbing into her skin weren't as soothing as he had hoped. 'That stupid agent, that bloody stupid agent.' Her voice was trembling, the emotions, before almost unnoticeable, now overcoming her entire being. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with unshed tears. 'I told her that her manager was our mole in the NSA, but the idiot discarded my information. "_He's like a father to me, he would never do anything like that."' _Regina sneered, but the affect was lost as the absolute devastation shone in her eyes at the memories. 'She told him about the agreement, about the information, about my fiancè-' And that is when the broken sob escaped her lips and took over.

'Oh Regina,' it was meant to be comforting, but when he heard his voice, heard how affected he really was in the situation, he realised words were probably not what she needed. He pressed kisses to the crown of her head, wanting to whisper words of comfort, but knowing that empty platitudes would do nothing.

The kisses were peppered to every stunning feature he could touch, her forehead, her eyes, the stream of tears glistening in the light. He kissed her nose and intended to bypass her lips for her chin, but she had different ideas. As he lightly skimmed over them, she arched upwards, catching them wholly against hers. He almost pulled away, but she followed him, and he decided that if this is what she wanted from him, this would be what she received. She could have asked for the world and he would have endeavoured to serve it on a silver platter. But she wanted _this_, she wanted _him_, and so he continued to kiss her, to comfort her in any way he could.

He thought it was over, he _needed_ it to be over, because he didn't think his heart could handle any more, he didn't think that he could see her, investigate her and be objective. The urge to sweep her away from all this darkness was already hard to control, but anything else would push him off the precipice he was dangling over.

'My mother gifted me his heart in a box. "_After all, that's what you wanted, wasn't it? His heart?_" '

And in that moment he felt his heart break all over again.

And he was falling.

(What he hadn't realised was that he had already been in free-fall for quite some time.)

'All my life she told me love was weakness, but I never understood what she meant until then. I was blinded by my love for Daniel to see how MM was using me. God, she probably didn't even care that our lives would be in jeopardy if she told Leo, just as long as she had her information and got to play hero.'

Robin, to his credit, didn't falter when MM's name was brought up, everything about her compulsion to be involved in the mission, about saving the younger Mills made so much sense.

And so he held her while she was shook, trying to escape the suffocating feelings she had no chance of avoiding_. _Her tears were burning his bare skin, unrelenting in their strength, unforgiving in their destruction. It pained him to not be able to do anything, to be forced to simply endure her pain along side her with no chance of relieving it. He couldn't _not _do anything. He took her chin under the crook of his finger, tilting her face up towards him. And he kissed away her tears, following the trail down from her eyelids, down her cheek, nipping at her jaw before kissing her lips once more, attempting to soothe her agony.

It was a soft caress of lips, but it held such pain and danger. Much like the calm before a storm, it's beauty overshadowed by what would come, and what would be left in it's wake. He continued to kiss her until the tears subsided, until the shaking that wracked her body ceased. She drew away first, breathless and lighter than she had felt in years.

'I should go.' She seemed almost shy confessing it, like a blushing bride; she seemed unsure with her actions, hesitantly pulling away from his warm embrace, longing to return to it, to the bubble they created, untainted by reality. Slowly, reluctantly, she gathered her clothes, putting it back on, getting ready to leave him. And as always, he watched her. He drank in her form and gave up on ever returning to a world without her in it.

'Run away with me.'

It slipped out without a chance for him to even consider it, but once it was spoken, he knew he would never regret suggesting such a thing.

'What?' She looked at him shocked, hands pausing at her buttons as she looked at him, baffled by his words.

'Run away with me.' His enunciation didn't change, his speed didn't slow. He knew her confusion was not based upon not hearing, but not understanding. 'I have a few aliases I've established over the years. We can stage my death and run away together, I could get a job and you-' Like an avalanche, his plea had grown in speed and intensity. He paused then though, taking in a deep breath, ' -and you could get a new start, with me.' His hand reached forward to grasp her, to pull her closer but his movement seemed to snap her out of whatever trance his words had placed her in.

'No. Are you insane?' She hissed it, recoiling as his fingers brushed against her. 'I am a monster, a villain. I use people and I kill them.'

'I know, but I honestly don't care. All I care about is the woman inside, all I want is your heart, because M'lady, well, you already have mine.'

She looked at him so confused and afraid he felt his heart break a little more for her. 'I am a broken, broken woman Robin. I don't think I have a heart to offer you.'

'Well I guess we'll have to use mine for the both of us.'

She wasn't expecting that.

'Why? What do you see in me?' Her walls were crumbling down and they both knew it. He took a step forward, but unlike before, she didn't take a step away.

'A second chance Regina. You can call me crazy, but I am damn sure you're mine.'

'But I'm a murderer, I couldn't - I don't deserve-' The thought seemed so preposterous in her mind, so inconceivable that this man, this good, honourable man, could be interested in her to the extent of throwing away his life.

'Everyone deserves a second chance. Even you.' He could see the doubt, the self-loathing that plagued her still there. So he kissed her. It was hard and heavy, his desperation radiating off him in waves, threatening to pull her under with him. His fingers fumbled with her buttons, trying to bring her back to a level of undress matching his, hands shaking as he touched the woman who had somehow gotten a hold of his heart. But she resisted the pull, calmly responding to the kiss, the ferocity dampening, but in no way affecting it's intensity.

If Regina were anything like a romantic, she would have claimed to feel whole in that small moment. If Robin was willing to admit the truth to himself, it tasted awfully like a goodbye kiss.

She refused to face him, knowing that his eyes, so blue, so intense, so full of _something _for her would be able to break down her barriers so easily. So she felt his gaze burning through to her soul for the last time.

'We can't do this anymore.'

He knew she meant it all, the meetings, the sex, the opening up, the emotions that weren't supposed to develop by did so on their own accord.

And the logical part of him knew she was correct, that it should have been said long before then.

(His heart felt a pang of loss so strong, it was only rivalled by the loss of his wife and only son within the space of those three godawful minutes.)

But he did see her, and sooner than he thought.

.

..

.

However, she was on the other side of his arrow.

And he, her gun.

* * *

><p><strong>AND<strong> that is the end. This was the sequel to Under-covers, if you hadn't guessed. I hope you enjoyed the ride :)

Disclaimer: Do not own OUAT.


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